


My Little Culprit For Crime

by scairey



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Pining, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Requited Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scairey/pseuds/scairey
Summary: There was never change at the station. A reoccurring loop of questioning suspects, and bringing victims their justice. Politely declining the playful, egocentric girls on the front desk, when they insist on asking him out for the third time that week. It was always the same. Just the way Clay liked it. In order.So when a pale, scrawny-looking boy enters the station in handcuffs; accused of murder.Why can't he look away?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. A change.

**Author's Note:**

> {AUTHOR NOTES}
> 
> Hello lovely's!
> 
> This is my first story, so I apologise for any grammatical errors or any bad plot lines. Please feel free to send suggestions for future stories to my Instagram: @hollyaireyyy 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. <3 
> 
> Of course, if Dream or George come forward and say they are uncomfortable; this will be taken down immediately.

_Ring. Ring._

Clay sighed audibly.

_Ring. Ring._

He abruptly grabbed the telephone from its place on the desk with force, pulling it to his ear with a roll of his eyes. He was so done with this. The giggle that sounded through the phone was strikingly familiar as always, filling Clay's ears with a sense of relief. It was his best friend, as usual.

"What do you want Panda's?" He asked. A playful bite to his tone, as he tried to remain serious.

Panda's. A nickname given to Clay's best friend Nick just shortly after they started the academy together, both training to be lead detectives in the MCPD. That was one of the very few things Clay looked forward to during the day. If he wasn't out catching criminals, and righting wrongs, then he was stuck at his desk with a never-ending pile of paperwork to complete.

Yet Clay was a procrastinator; anyone could see that. Any chance to get away from his desk and the daunting tasks that awaited him, he took it. Of course, this always happened much to the displease of their Captain, Wilbur soot, who was adamant that Clay needed to "Get his priorities in check." 

_"Clay. I refuse to have this conversation with you again. I have stated multiple times that paper work is important. It keeps us and our precinct in check, and preserves an organised, and productive work environment for everyone here."_

_Wilbur was mad. Anyone could see that, and the use of his real name sent piercing shivers down Clay's spine. He had screwed up._

_"Wilbur, with all due respect-"_

_"No." Wilbur had cut in. "I refuse to stand around and watch you be childish and reckless when out on that field. You want to catch criminals? Great. You want to give justice to every victim in this city of hell then you can god damn try. I understand you Clay. I was like you once as well. Young and naïve when it came to my safety, too excited to give a care towards the rules. Yet the adrenaline was too much, and before I knew it I was being taken out of the field and put by my desk until I learnt my lesson. That is why you are restricted from the field until further notice."_

_"But Wilbur-"_

_"Captain Soot. It's Captain Soot, and no. I don't want to hear your excuses. You put people in danger Clay, real life people. People with families to go home to. Can you imagine how their families would feel if they didn't return home because of one careless officer who decided to test his boundaries when in contact with real life criminals? Dangerous criminals."_

_Clay felt like a child again. Being scolded by his father for closing a door to hard, or by his mother for spending too much time in his room. It was intimidating. He felt powerless._

_"Captain, you're making a mistake-"_

_"No. Clay. You made the mistake. Now you are simply facing the consequences. It's life. Hopefully some time off the field will help you to **get your priorities in check**. Now go home"_

_"Captain, please-"_

_"Go. Home. Clay. That is an order."_

"Hello Dreamy~" Nick taunted. "We're having a lot of fun out here without you, isn't that right Karl?"

The faint sound of a "yes" could be caught in the background of the call; Clay presumed the source of the noise was from Karl. As much as he loved his friends, he always believed that the sole purpose of their existence was to agitate him on a daily basis. From the unexpected calls at ungodly hours, to the creation of unpredictable nicknames used for him; they were a piece of work to put up with. 

Clay still remembers the day Karl joined the force. The day Wilbur strolled through the bullpen, towering over everyone with pride and dominance, as he strolls over to the courageous, young recruit who was in the papers. Dream still remembers when Wilbur shook his hand, thanking him for his bravery and inviting him to the force. It feels like yesterday. Not 4 years ago.

_"Mr Jacobs?" Wilbur had questioned._

_Following the short, adamant nod he received from the smaller man, Wilbur's mood seemed to perk up at the discovery. He held out his hand._

_"I am Captain Wilbur Soot of the MCPD, pleasure to meet you."_

_Hesitantly, Karl had reached his hand out to meet Wilbur's in a firm, yet professional shake. The size difference was endearing._

_"I- I'm Karl, Karl Jacobs. I just go by Karl though, it's- it's a pleasure t- to meet you, Captain." The quivering, tentative voice had responded._

_Clay knew they would be great friends._

"Shut up snapmap. You know I wanted to leave with you guys." He argued, slightly irritated by the boastful attitude coming from his best friend over the phone. 

He most definitely got that from Tommy; an energetic, yet optimistic boy on the junior recruits team. He never failed to make everybody laugh; always managing to ease any forms of stress or anxiety people were feeling before the field with his loud, humorous personality. It was nice. Caring. Yet he could also be the most irritating person on Earth. 

The sound of Nick's intercom brought his thoughts to a holt. Clay's curiosity brewing when he heard a sharp inhale be made over the phone.

"What is it, sap?" He questioned

A shaky exhale followed. The voice sounded through; more doubtful than Clay would have liked.

"We- we have to get to the station - for questioning." He informed.

"What? Why?"

The sound of a roaring engine in the background was evident through the phone.

"I - I don't know Clay. There is just somebody there we need to question."

"For what?" Clay asked; determined to have a clear understanding on what was happening.

There was a pause. Clay held his breath.

"For **murder**."


	2. For the better?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The station's atmosphere takes a turn for the worst when more details of a menacing crime unfold.
> 
> Starting with the suspect.
> 
> A crime so savage and coldblooded. Committed by only the most ruthless.
> 
> So why do the innocent look so deceiving?

Wilbur was tense.

It was evident through the shift in aura when he entered the bullpen. His movements were extensive and prudent; whilst his hands quivered and twitched in response to any sudden movement made around him. Clay had never seen him so emotive before. He was understandable. Easy to read. It was strange. Yet he couldn't accuse Wilbur of creating unnecessary changes in the circumstances they were in.

There was going to be a suspect in the station. A suspect for **murder**.

A crime committed by the most merciless people; meaning the culprit was dangerous. A possible threat to every officer in the building. Wilbur couldn't let that happen. He couldn't risk the safety of many officers with one slip up. One simple mistake; and the protection of hundreds would be withdrew from his clutch in an instant. The planning was pivotal; and all they could do was wait.

Eight minutes.

Eight crucial, deciding minutes later and there was movement outside the door.

The room was silent. The silence was deafening. 

The door opened. A low, muffled creak sounded through the frame. Then - footsteps. Multiple. 

One figure strolled through the door. It was Sapnap.

Clay audibly sighed; rushing over to where his best friend was and engulfing him in a tight hug, relief filling his body.

Nick cackled; "Miss me, Dreamy?"

He received a playful in shove in return from Clay; their wholesome moment ruined by his best friend's antics.

"Oh shut up, Crapnap. I was worried because of-"

Clay paused; unsure of the correct way to phrase his sentence. Nick gave him a knowing look.

"Oh right, I understand." Nick responded. 

He shot a weary glance towards the door; meeting the gaze of two hesitant officers, blocking Clay's view of somebody behind them.

Somebody small, somebody scrawny; and most definitely not somebody who would be suspected for murder. Yet his frail wrists were clasped in handcuffs, and his gaze was fixated on the floor beneath him. He looked guilty. Scared. Confused. This is all Clay could tell by the slight furrow in his eyebrow; as his face remained covered by his hood.

Clay didn't know what to think about him. 

That is, of course; until he glanced up. They locked eyes.

The first thing Clay distinguished about his appearance was how young he appeared. His angelic, pale skin contrasted largely with his rich, chocolate coloured eyes; wide and childlike. He was shaking; shoulders strained and stiff against his bony frame. His thick, crimson red hoodie engulfed him; swallowing his structure whole and creating a trusting atmosphere around him. 

Yet it all ended as quickly as it had started; his eyes returning once more to the floor as they began to move. The officers swept past Clay in a hurried motion, heaving the suspect with them; goose bumps arising on his skin as the smaller boys' shoulder met his for an instant. A small touch - yet it felt like fire. That was just the beginning.

The precinct was on high alert. Word of a lead suspect for murder being in the building, had spread like wildfire. Clay hated it. Unwanted attention was brought towards their bullpen; various officers and receptionists were conveniently walking around the area they worked. It was extremely distracting. It was a security threat.

The lifts were disabled and all floors were then placed in full lockdown. Nobody was allowed in or out. Frantic calls were made home; exchanged promises to be home in the morning were heard throughout the bullpen. The tension was so thick, you could slice a knife through it.

The interrogation room door opened; Sapnap exited. Dream's head snapped around; eyes widening at the sight of his best friends' return.

"What happened, Nick? Did he confess? Why were you so long in there? Did he d-"

"No. He didn't confess; claims he doesn't even know why he is here." Sapnap responded sharply, cutting in through Clay's frantic string of questions.

"Oh-" Clay audibly sighed, before adding; "Do you know why we are on full-lockdown?"

"No, I presumed it was because of the rumours. Wouldn't want excessive attention on our building for the wrong reasons, that could cause some serious problems. Why haven't you asked Wilbur? He is the one who requested the lockdown." Nick questioned.

Clay shrugged. 

"I haven't seen him - honestly." 

There was movement by the main entrance. Two muscular, strapping men were positioned there; to ensure that nobody left or entered the floor. They shifted to the left, allowing somebody to enter. A thin, angular figure entered the bullpen; a small, engaging figure in its arms. It was clear to Clay who it was.

"Apologies for the startle, gentlemen. I would have given you men a warning before the lockdown procedure, yet I was downstairs in the junior recruit section." 

It was Wilbur; Tommy in his arms, asleep.

"It's alright Wilbur, don't worry about it. We just presumed it was because of the rumours circulating George?" Nick questioned; followed by a short nod by Wilbur, confirming his thoughts.

"George?" Clay questioned.

"The - suspect." Nick answered, a hesitant pause between his words.

"Yes. His name is George, and he seems to be causing a lot of stir within the precinct. If you thought the rumours were bad up here, you wouldn't believe what it is like downstairs. Everywhere I went, there was always somebody talking; therefore I made the decision to put every floor on to lockdown." Wilbur informed them.

"You brought him up here?" Nick interrogated, gesturing to the boy sleeping in his arms.

Wilbur shot him a sharp glare, before responding shortly.

"Well - yes. It could be dangerous. I wouldn't want him getting hurt."

Clay softened at the response; watching as Wilbur tightened his hold on Tommy, before swiftly making his way towards his office.

It was the calm before the storm; as things were about to get a whole lot -

**worse.**


	3. For the worse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alluring aura surrounded him. Yet he was dangerous. Very dangerous.
> 
> He was suspected of killing the innocent.
> 
> So why did Clay trust him?

It was midnight when Clay's presence was requested in the interrogation room.

It had been an extensive 7 hours. The atmosphere of the bullpen was tense; full of anticipating officers. Clay was extremely grateful for Tommy's sleeping form; keeping Wilbur occupied in his office, as Clay wasn't certain if he could handle another pacing officer. The sounds of tight, polished shoes brushing the waxed floor surrounded his thoughts; it was infuriating.

It reminded Clay of time that felt unearthly; hearing Wilbur's distraught footsteps echo through the bullpen as he paced. Paced with fear. Paced with denial. 

It felt like an eternity ago; yet it had only occurred 11 months before. 

_Bank. Active shooter. Gun aimed at Tubbo; an MCYT junior recruit._

_An ear-piercing bang had sounded through the intercom that day. Clay's heart had stopped. Wilbur's hand shook violently._

_"Officer down. Bullet to the chest."_

_The daunting words said over the intercom had engraved in Clay's mind forever, as he watched Wilbur turn a ghostly shade of white._

_"Is- is Tubbo going to be okay?" He had asked, attentively._

_Tubbo was young. He was innocent. Juvenile. He was only 16. He was Tommy's best friend._

_**Tommy's best friend.** _

_There were quiet, vigilant whispers from the other line; until one voice spoke up._

_"Tubbo wasn't hit."_

_Clay recalled the confusion and dubiety he had felt after hearing the spoken words. The furrow that had appeared in Wilbur's eyebrow; with the same sceptic look Clay had worn._

_"Wha-" Clay had begun, before being sharply cut off._

_"An officer jumped in front. Protected him from the hit"_

_A dawn of realisation engulfed Clay as he allowed the words to settle in. Tubbo was saved. Somebody sacrificed themselves. But who-_

_A crash._

_Clay snapped his head towards the noise._

_The intercom was on the floor. The hand having held it, was gone. Wilbur's hand._

_Wilbur was on the floor; head in his hands._

_Broken sobs escaped his lips. His body had shook forcefully. Shattered cries sounded throughout the bullpen; cries of one name only._

**_Tommy._ **

That day remained in Clay's memories forever. The look of despair in Wilbur's eyes as his worst fear was confirmed to be true.

Tommy was hit. Bullet in the chest. 

He had never seen Wilbur so petrified. He prayed to never see it again.

"Clay."

The sound of his name being called, snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his gaze to the man in the doorway of the interrogation room. It was Punz.

"We could use a hand in here. You up for it?" He asked, attention returning to the scene inside the room.

"Sure thing."

The room was dull and tedious. The glacial tiles spread around the walls; the air was thick with tension. In the centre of the room, sat a salient table. On one side, closest to the door, were three officers; Punz, Techno and Sapnap. They had a herculean persona that surrounded them, with their broad shoulders and immense body structures, they were extremely intimidating. Their undivided attention was focused on the opposite side of the table, where the suspect was positioned. 

His hands were securely fastened to the table in firm handcuffs, as well as his ankles to the table legs. He had nowhere to run. Yet, there was a strapping look of fatigue on his face, evidently showing that the boy had no sudden plans in escaping. He looked emotionless. 

"This is George. I am sure you know him. He is the lead suspect in our case, yet he hasn't been cooperating very well as of now. Apparently he doesn't know anything." Punz calmly explained; as his faced remained relaxed and unfazed.

"That's because I don't." Snapped a much softer, British accent from across the table.

Clay's eyes widened. They met George's. 

"See what we have to deal with? This little brit wont budge. It's dumb. He is making a mistake." Sapnap complained.

George's eyes left Clays and situated on Sapnap; a glare as sharp as daggers was thrown at the man. He flinched.

Clay paused.

"Have you told him the negotiations we can offer?" Clay questioned, tentatively. 

"Yep. Every single one of them. He just keeps lying." Techno informed him, his voice keeping a low, monotonous tone.

"I am not lying!" George tried. 

His eyes returned to Clay's and they met once again. 

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever." Punz chided; his voice held a teasing tone aimed at George as he slowly began to leave the room.

Sapnap and Techno followed suit. 

Clay stayed.

George's eyes narrowed at Clay. Clay stared back.

"I knew you were different the moment you walked in the room." George began.

Clay furrowed his brow, yet George continued.

"You seem more lenient. More open to the idea that maybe I am not lying. Maybe your friends were wrong."

Clay was frozen. His head swam in the words George had spoken.

_Was that true?_

_Clay wasn't sure if he wanted to find out._

George giggled softly. It was calm, yet it had an underlying tone of evil to it.

Clay narrowed his eyes as he began to make his way to the door.

George held his gaze for a moment longer, before snapping it away suddenly, with a sadistic smirk.

Clay felt his chest tighten.

"Am I right?" George questioned, cockily. 

"Shut up. I don't even know what you're talking about." Clay barked, and with that, he left.

Yet even hours later. The Lockdown on the precinct lifted, and Clay finally safe in his own home once again. George's voice filled his head.

_"I knew you were different the moment you walked in the room."_

Clay shook his head sharply. 

What George had said was pathetic. He was one of the precinct's top detectives; Wilbur had said so.

He wasn't soft or more lenient in comparison to his friends.

Never.

So why were George's words creating a pit in his mind. A black hole that was engulfing any string of sanity Clay had left. Why was he questioning himself?

He wouldn't do that if he knew he was right. Clay was a stubborn character. 

So there was no reason for Clay to question himself, unless-

**Unless George was right.**


End file.
